Fame (4 page)

“Katy, Katy…” A chorus of frantic voices brought Katy back to the urgency of the moment. She looked down and saw three fourth-grade girls. One of them was out of breath. “I forgot my

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music!” Tears welled in her eyes. “My mom wants to know if there’s time to go back and get it.”

Katy put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Calm down— everything’s okay.” She smiled. “You have plenty of time.”

More kids called for her attention, and one after another she addressed their needs. Yes, they needed a photo in order to try out. No, they couldn’t sing without accompaniment. Yes, they could sing a song from church.

Normally she would chat with the kids, ask them about school and their families.

But today would be all business. CKT might be a children’s theater troupe, but it was Katy’s passion, her purpose. Tom Sawyer could be their best show ever.

Yes, it was CKT’s first production of the summer. Never mind the stuffy church or the long lines or the fact that she was late or even the threatening thunderstorms that could very easily knock out the electricity. This audition would be as professional as the others. Katy held her bag tight to her side and headed for the double doors leading to the sanctuary.

“More kids than ever.” Heath Hudson came up alongside her and handed her two pencils. Heath was a twenty-seven-yearold salesman with an uncanny ability to run a soundboard and a strong fascination for theater. The talk among CKT

families was that he had a fascination for Katy too. “You look hot.”

“Oh.” Katy stopped short and looked at Heath. “Is that a compliment?”

“Uh…” He was only an inch taller than her, so she could see his forehead was damp with sweat. “Not hot that way, but… well… I mean, you are hot that way, of course, but…”

“I’m teasing.” Katy stifled a laugh. She had every reason to like Heath Hudson.

They’d gone to the movies a few times, and kids were always giggling and winking at them whenever they were together. But she couldn’t quite convince her heart.

She took the pencils, then patted Heath on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I know what you mean. I am hot; we’re all hot.” She gestured toward the 21

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ceiling. “The air-conditioning isn’t working.” She wrinkled her nose and took a step back. “Maybe you could check that for me, Heath. Whadya say?”

“Sure thing.” Heath straightened and cleared his throat, more composed. “I’m on my way.”

She was halfway down the center aisle toward the front of the church when the rest of her creative team caught up with her. Nancy Helmes started with the updates while they were still walking. “Adam Franklin threw up in the lobby.”

“What?” Katy set her things down on the first pew and stared at Nancy. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Nancy moved to the piano a few feet away and opened the lid. “His father said he’s been nervous all day. Ate a burger and fries for lunch and, well.. “

Her husband, Al, made a face. “It wasn’t pretty.”

Rhonda opened a card table and set it in front of the first pew. “Sarah Jo Stryker’s here too. Her mother says they barely made it. Straight from a commercial audition in Indianapolis.” Rhonda raised an eyebrow. “She pulled me aside and asked me if we knew what we were getting with Sarah Jo.”

“Huh?” Katy let her hands fall to her sides. “What did she mean?”

“She told me Sarah Jo was going to be a star one day, We’re lucky to get her while she’s young and inexpensive.”

Katy exhaled hard and set her yellow notepad and pencils on the card table.

Most CKT families were levelheaded people, thrilled with a chance to have found a drama troupe where moral standards were high and faith was at the foundation of all they did. Teamwork was stressed, and after eight weeks of practice and rehearsal, everyone involved felt equally important on opening night.

But in the year since the group’s start in Bloomington, every now and then someone would miss the point. They’d come thinking CKT was a launching pad to something bigger, better.

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Something paid. Katy hadn’t met SarahJo or her mother, but her phone calls with the woman had told her there was trouble ahead.

Katy blinked. “She really said that?”

“Yep.” Rhonda glanced at her watch. “I think she’s in the fourth group.”

What were people thinking? “If she talks to you again, tell Mrs. Stryker—” Katy grabbed her notepad and a pencil and pretended to write something down—”I’ve got it noted about Sarah Jo and how lucky we are.” She paused. “The rules are the same as always, by the way. In an audition like this, props and elaborate dance steps only take away from the singer. The kids know that.”

A clap of thunder shook the building, and Katy turned toward the back of the room. Krissy Schick, the CKT area coordinator, was there waiting for the signal.

“Ready?”

Katy took a deep breath and nodded to Nancy, Al and Rhonda. They were all seated at the table. A few feet away, one of the moms was at the CD player, seated and holding a stopwatch. Katy looked back at Krissy. “Send them in.”

In a flurry of motion, dozens of parents and kids with numbers pinned to their shirts hurried into the sanctuary and immediately took their seats and quieted themselves. Rules were that anyone could watch auditions, but people could only come and go between the groups of ten. The first group of children auditioning for parts separated themselves from the spectators and took the front row adjacent to where Katy was seated.

Another clap of thunder filled the auditorium. Katy held her pencil tight. The temperature was still smoldering inside, and she glanced over her shoulder for Heath. If he’d found the air conditioner, it wasn’t working. Maybe rain would cool things

down.

Katy looked at the assortment of kids seated in the first row. “Number one?”

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Tim Reed stood, walked to the mom at the CD player, and gave her his music.

There were a few seconds while he explained to the woman in hushed tones which song he was singing. Then he took the center of the stage, faced Katy, and smiled. “Hi, my name’s Tim Reed. I’m sixteen years old, and I’ll be singing ‘King of New York’ from Newsies.”

Katy nodded and sat back.

Tim Reed was one of the nicest kids she’d ever met. In past plays, he was the first to help the younger boys with their makeup, first to clean up the greenroom, and quick to pull out his guitar and sing praise songs with the rest of the cast between Saturday shows. He was homeschooled and had recently earned Eagle rank from the Boy Scouts. On top of that he had a natural ability to sing and act. Tim had played Charlie Brown in CKT’s first production and had earned a lead part in every play since. Katy smiled as the music began. This one would be easy. The song built and grew, and Tim nailed it, hitting the highs just right and letting his vibrato show on the lows. Each person auditioning would have one minute before their music would be cut. Tim finished at just under, thanked the panel, and returned to his seat.

Katy pulled her notepad closer and wrote: Tim Reed—Tom Sawyer?

Next up was a rail-thin boy with short, wavy hair making his first attempt at a CKT production. He had a life preserver around his waist and a green swimming mask on his face. In his hand was a yellow rubber duck. After he set up his music and took the stage, he nodded to Katy.

She sucked the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. “Go ahead.”

“Okay.” His voice was nasally because of the mask. He pulled himself up some.

“Hi. I’m Eric Wade. I’m twelve years old and-“

“Eric?” Katy shook her head. The boy might as well have been underwater for how garbled he sounded. “Do you have a cold?”

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“No.” His shoulders fell a little.

“Then take off the mask, honey. We can’t understand you.”

Eric slipped the mask off and dropped it to the floor. “Is that better?”

“Yes. Let’s try it again.”

It was no surprise that Eric’s song was “Rubber Duckie.” He sang it while feigning first a freestyle stroke and then a backstroke up and down the length of the stage. It was impossi ble to tell whether he was on key or not. Katy could only guess what the rest of her creative team was writing.

She jotted down Eric Wade—maybe next time.

The stream of kids continued until the first ten were finished. Katy stood and stretched and spoke loud enough for everyone in the sanctuary to hear her.

“We’ll take two minutes, and then we’ll need the next ten.”

During the break, Heath found her. “Good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

Katy folded her arms and angled her head. Audition days were always like this.

“The good.”

“Okay, I found the air-conditioning controls and turned it on.” Heath puffed out his chest. His breath had the faint smell of garlic and onions. “Because your wish is my command.”

“Wow. How’d I get so lucky?” A weak laugh sounded from Katy’s lips. “The bad?”

“The bad news is it’ll probably take an hour to cool down, and right now it’s hailing outside.”

“Oh.” Katy nodded. “That’s not bad news.” She hurried up the aisle, her eyes still on Heath. “We’ll just open the doors.”

In a blur, she rushed into the lobby, flung open the double doors, and was instantly slapped in the face by a sheet of hail. “Oh, brother.” She shut the doors again and spun around.

The parents and kids in the lobby were all staring at her, try ing not to laugh.

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“That’s why we had the doors closed.” One of the dads grinned.

“I see that.” Katy brushed her clothes off and shook the hail from her arms.

Tim’s little sister Mary came up and tugged on Katy’s blouse. “You have snow on your head.”

“Yes, thank you, Mary. I thought I might.” She ran her fingers through her hair and dashed back into the sanctuary. “Okay,” she shouted. “Group two, get ready.”

Katy was running back down the aisle when she spotted one of the college girls who would help with the show. She was seated at the back of the sanctuary next to her boyfriend. He had his arm around her, his eyes lost in hers, their heads tilted toward each other.

The picture filled Katy’s senses and drew her back. Suddenly the ache in her heart returned, raw and painful and lonely, the way it still felt even two years after leaving Chicago. She glanced once more at the couple. They were laughing about something and holding hands, lost in a world of their own.

Katy hesitated. That was her not so many years ago, wasn’t it? The college girl sitting with her first love—her only love—in the back of an auditorium while their class rehearsed near the front. Back then she had dreams of marriage and babies and living in Chicago forever. But it hadn’t worked out that way, and here, now, she missed that time with an intensity that took her breath away.

She turned her attention back to the front of the church and picked up her pace.

Tears stung her eyes. The pain hit her at the strangest times, smack in the midst of an entire building full of people who loved and adored her. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Let’s go! Group two, get your music ready.”

A single breath and Katy felt control coming over her. The life she had in Chicago was gone; she would never go back. Her eyes were dry again, and she forced herself to focus on the whispery

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jitters and rustling lyrics sheets and excitement brimming all around her. This was her home, where she belonged.

And it was enough.

Katy sat at the table and stared at her notepad. This is all I need, isn’t it, God? Isn’t that what You told me? Being a part of three dozen families with a hundred kids calling my name? These are the plans You have for me, right?

There was no answer, not even in the quiet places of her heart.

“Katy, you with us?” Rhonda tapped Katy’s foot under the table. “Let’s get these kids through here.”

“Right.” Katy looked at the first row, where the next ten kids were waiting. “Number eleven, take the stage.”

Katy didn’t lose focus again.

After the first thirty auditions, a woman came up to Katy and touched her shoulder. “You’re Katy, right? The director?”

Katy turned in her seat. “Yes, hello.” They’d only talked on the phone, but Katy had no doubt this was Sarah Jo’s mother.

Alice Stryker moved in closer and lowered her voice. “Sarah Jo’s been practicing the part of Becky for some time now.” Mrs. Stryker pinched her lips together and gave Katy’s shoulder a light push. “I already made her a Becky Thatcher dress.”

“Mrs. Stryker—” Katy tried to keep the shock from her tone—”the team won’t be choosing kids for the roles until after tomorrow’s callback.”

Her expression changed and she uttered a polite laugh. “Of course, dear. I’m just planting seeds for tomorrow, since parents can’t watch the callbacks and I’m convinced Sarah Jo can play the part.”

Mrs. Stryker was gone before Katy could catch her breath. It would take everything in her to call Sarah Jo back after her mother’s unfair expectations.

Katy was still replaying the woman’s words when Sarah Jo approached her. Katy watched the girl’s tentative steps, her wide, 27

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hesitant eyes. For the first time she considered that maybe Sarah Jo was nothing like her mother.

“Miss Katy?” The girl glanced over her shoulder as she ran her tongue along her lower lip. Her face was downcast when her eyes met Katy’s again. “I’m Sarah Jo.”

She held out her hand. “Whatever my mama said, I’m sorry. She—” the girl swallowed, her expression tense—”she has her ideas about me.”

Katy’s heart melted. “Oh, honey, it’s okay.” She took hold of SarahJo’s hand.

“Don’t worry. Everyone’s a little excited at auditions.”

“Yeah, I guess.” The hint of a sparkle appeared in Sarah Jo’s eyes. “Thanks.”

Katy watched Sarah Jo blend back in with the other kids and noticed the two oldest Flanigan children, fifteen-year-old Bailey and twelve-year-old Connor, near the back of the room. Connor had earned a part in each of the first three shows, but Bailey was an unknown. Since Katy lived with the Flanigans and felt like part of their family, she had worried for a week about whether Bailey would have what it takes to get a part and whether it would be uncomfortable with Jim and Jenny, their parents, if either of the kids wasn’t cast in the play.